


Those Fickle And Faithful

by missema



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Alternate Universe, Deception, F/M, Nobility, Post Game, Power Dynamics, Tevinter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:35:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/790959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missema/pseuds/missema
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sebastian Vael was sent to the Chantry in Kirkwall by his family for being the shameful third son, who cared about his own pleasure more than the weight of his name.  His parents made a hefty donation to ensure that he would be accommodated by the Grand Cleric, who dutifully offered him the first real chance at shaping his own future - the chance to leave the Chantry with the money his parents gave in his name.  Sebastian left Kirkwall and didn't look back - except to make sure the Grand Cleric wasn't sending guards after him.  </p><p>Dara Hawke is the Fereldan apostate who became Champion of Kirkwall and then saw it burn down around her.  She's had a good head start from the Knight-Captain to get out of Kirkwall, and reasons of her own for fleeing to the Imperium.</p><p>Tevinter isn't far enough to get away from the Vael legacy, and Hawke needs more help than ever, her second time as a stranger in a strange land.  They are unlikely allies, but no odder than some of the people she just left behind.</p><p>She just wishes he wasn't so damnably charming when their lives are in danger.</p><p>Tags are evolving and updates will likely be slow.  Tevinter AU Post Game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Morning Meeting

The overloud hammering was coming from inside his own skull, though it took Sebastian a minute to recognize the pain for what it was. Groaning without thought, it occurred to him that he was awake, but there was no part of his body that was celebrating the news. There was a party the night before, a dinner thrown by an ally of his magister host, and he'd been obliged to attend. It had became tedious early on, and wound up being another blurry night followed by a bleary morning with all the same regrets. Gingerly lifting his head from whatever it was resting on, he took a careful look around him, eyes half-closed in an effort to shield them from any form of light. Swiveling his heavy head around was painful, but recognition made him sigh with relief. His surroundings were his own, though not his bed chambers. At least he had found his way home then. 

Fine Antivan leather boots were carefully placed next to the black velvet settee he'd awoken on, and he realized that someone, probably a servant of some sort had helped him to bed. Or at least, out of his shoes, since he was currently wearing his rumpled party clothes. Indeed, there was a blanket strewn on the marble floor, probably kicked off at some point. Sebastian was infinitely glad he'd wound up on the furniture instead of the cold stone floor. He'd rather have been in his bed, but at least he wasn't slumped over a table in some tavern across the city, or worse, in a whorehouse with an expectant madam looming over him, charging him the overnight rate. That happened far too often for his liking, but less now that he was getting older.

Older. It was evident in the morning just how many years he'd seen, especially when he considered that he hadn't actually drank all that much. Damn Tevinters, they made everything innocuous-looking and potent, from their wine to their magic. With his body protesting his every move, he sat upright and pulled the blanket off the floor, distracting himself by looking down at the back of the intricate pattern woven in golden thread upon it. It was soft and raised under his fingers, the gentle sensation just enough to be comforting as he eased back to reality from the wooziness of his mind.

The open window nearby let in a warm breeze, and the sounds of the morning work around them. Upon the wind he could scent the smell of the city, of people and lyrium, a faint hint of the sea water and spices. At the early hour, it was still pleasant from the dampened hush of night and hadn't yet turned foul. He took deep, steadying breaths with his hands ever busy, doing nothing in particular. Calmer, he noticed that he was hungry but had not the inclination to ring for food. The noise would be too much at the moment and he'd endured worse than an empty stomach after a night of drink. As luck would have it, he didn't have to wait long. They must have been coming regularly to check on him.

"Your Highness, do you require anything?" A meek voice asked the question from the shadows of the doorway, and the Prince Vael persona took over, imperious and commanding.

"Bread and a large amount of water." He answered, trying to locate the owner of the voice without success.

"Right away, Your Highness." The voice replied, already scurrying from his presence.

He turned away, back to the privacy of his own thoughts, head still tattooing a beat onto his skull. Flashes of the night before came back to him, making Sebastian clutch his head between his hands. There was a party, magisters, senators, all sorts of important and esteemed guests. Party tricks, blood magic, dancing slaves and wine that sparkled and shimmered in the dim light were amongst the foremost of his memories. It had been an amusement, but standard in its offerings. Boredom would explain why he'd gotten so drunk when his intent was to leave early and alone. He'd managed the alone part at least, and took a hollow comfort in that.

The food was brought with a headache powder, and he mixed it with his water gratefully. It wasn't the refreshment brought by magic, but it was enough to end the thumps of his headache, the food laid down to placate the unease of his stomach after a night of excess. After his meager breakfast, he left the sitting room so that it could be cleaned and decided to linger in a warm bath. His mother had always said that a bath could cure ails of both mind and body, the heated water like a salve. He would take any balm, even if it was fleeting. 

Life in Tevinter was far from a hardship - he was after all, still a prince. A lordling in any land is afforded more than a commoner, even when away from home. Royalty had it better, and he better still because while not of Tevinter, Sebastian took to the lifestyle embraced by their aristocracy with gusto upon arrival. His hedonism had led to some misdeeds and actions that created allies and enemies alike, and he'd quickly learned to navigate their society. For a place that considered itself so different from the 'heretics' that followed the White Divine of Orlais, there were a remarkable number of similarities between their nobility and those from elsewhere. The details were changed, of course, but the petty politics and scheming remained the same. Once upon a time he had the interest and patience for it, but no longer.

He lived in a somewhat modest estate, as the semi-permanent guest of a magister he'd met when he first came to Tevinter and the man was an apprentice. They shared a liking for the same wine, and for a short while, the same woman. The infatuation didn't last long for either, and she eventually traded up from the pair of them, a lost prince and an apprentice. He and his host had grown apart, no longer sharing the same interests, but their alliance hadn't outworn its welcome yet. If it had, Sebastian would likely have been warned already - he wasn't without his own resources, even in a land so alien to him as the Imperium. They were fewer than he would have liked, but he had managed to make some connections in all of his years outside of Starkhaven.

There were actually more than Sebastian would have acknowledged, too few in the regions near his home and too many in Orlais and Tevinter. In the past, he'd considered going back, or living in Antiva, but Tevinter wasn't that easy to escape. The luxury and familiarity were too great of a comfort to him to give up in favor of the unknown, and more to the point, he didn't know what his family would do if he were closer. Tevinter was far enough to be safe, even from the long arm of his father.

The water in his bath just begun to cool when he received word of the woman waiting downstairs for him.

"She says that last night you told her to meet you at this time."

He could scarcely remember much after dinner last night, let alone setting a date to meet a woman during the day. Some aspiring magister, no doubt, with the face of a horse and an self-important attitude. Sebastian stood, painfully righting himself and stretched. A disturbing number of pops and creaks ensued, but he ignored them.

"Who is she?" He asked. There was no way to avoid meeting her, but there was protocol to be observed. Certain people must be kept waiting and precious few that demanded his immediate presence.

"The Champion of Kirkwall. I believe she is Lady Amell as well, but she simply said her name as Hawke, with no given name, Your Highness." There was no distaste in the slave's tone as it would have been had the same sentence come from the lips of a noble. It was just fact, a question buried within it for ears trained to hear. It almost made Sebastian smile - what kind of noblewoman would simply give her surname and deprive herself the chance to be called "Lady"? It was an insight into the Champion's character that he held onto as if the information were a nugget of gold, because it was all that he really knew about her other than stories and conjecture.

Mystery though she was, the Champion of Kirkwall was much too important and potentially interesting to be kept waiting for very long. "Beg her pardon for a moment while I ready myself." Sebastian said firmly, "I'll need to be dressed quickly." 

"Your garments are already laid out, Your Highness. Should you wish assistance, you need only ring." The slave said, bowing as he swept from the room. Sebastian normally didn't bother with help dressing, he found the fastidiousness of the slaves to be more of a hindrance than a help unless donning formal attire. He'd once made the mistake of mentioning it once to the magister with whom he resided. His host was a venerable man not a decade older than himself, rising in wealth and power, advised Sebastian to 'beat it out of them'. However comfortable his life in Tevinter was, Sebastian had never adopted the attitude of casual cruelty towards slaves or servants and was glad of it.

Last night it appeared he had been busier than he'd first surmised when fumbling into consciousness on the settee. One meeting at a party and now the Champion of Kirkwall was calling upon him? This would be news indeed, should it get out. The stories about her abounded, but no face came to mind. Such a woman would be a rare jewel, a mage that defeated an arishok, who lived free as a noble and fled after igniting a revolution. Sebastian quickened his pace, trying desperately to recall meeting her the night before. He hoped that she was at least pretty, but he could recall no noblewoman from Kirkwall that had even come close to filling that description. Granted, it had been many years since he'd been to the place and the only Amell that came to mind was a wastrel named Gamlen. 

Sebastian tried hard to keep any thoughts of Kirkwall from his mind most days, because though he spent little time there, the thought of the Chantry blowing up hurt his head. The news had just reached them not a few weeks before, though scant rumors of riots, fighting and warring between mages and templars had already been circulating. Knowing for certain that the Chantry and parts of Hightown had been destroyed was monstrous - all of those people, dead, gone. The Grand Cleric had been kind to him once, and he had in turn, disappointed her. Had he followed his families wishes, would he have been another of the casualties? It didn't do to dwell on such thoughts, and he forced himself to refocus on the matter at hand. The Champion of Kirkwall was waiting for him, and he wasn't even close to dry, let alone dressed.

There had been speculative talk of the Champion for years, renewed recently after what happened in Kirkwall. He must have already been deep in his cups last night when he met her. For once, a drunken party hadn't gotten the better of him. He'd invited her over instead of waking up with her, but that didn't mean he hadn't tried. Cursing, Sebastian slipped quickly into the clothes that awaited him. Apologies would have to be made, and then he could get down to the real business at hand.

He intended to find out what she wanted, and how he could help himself in the process.

#####

The ceiling in this room was absolutely amazing, Hawke thought to herself as she waited. It was a grand still life of food painted in a fanciful manner - apples with leaves of gold, that sort of thing - a tribute to the bounty of fertility. It was gorgeous, the light from the window bringing out the painted highlight, light bouncing off the scales of a fish, the ruby red interior of a pomegranate. The huge depiction of food looked almost edible, even from where she sat several feet below. It was a masterwork, meticulously maintained. Would if she could have had something like this in her own home, when she'd the chance.

The stone mansions and plush estates of Kirkwall had been decadent compared to anything she'd ever seen in Ferelden, but Minrathous took the word grandeur to another level. Kirkwall had nothing on this place. Dara Hawke kept craning her neck around, trying to take in all the details. Even the sconces on the wall were made to impress, and when she looked upon them she saw the detailed carving that would be revealed once soot settled into the crevices. It was a clever bit of artistry, but she was finding those touches were common in Minrathous, though no less impressive for it. 

Of all the places she'd been in her life so far, which consisted of all across Ferelden, Kirkwall, and very briefly Nevarra while they were running, Minrathous was proving to be one of the more beautiful. Tevinter was a land of aged beauty and character, crumbling stone buildings covered with ivy, giant statues rendered faceless by weather and warring. Nevarra had been gaudily gorgeous, gold and jeweled tributes to the Maker all across the land, but the inside the buildings it was simpler, a contrast with the outside. It had been a welcome change from the popular Orlesian influence that oft set trends in decor and fashion. Dara found almost everything from Orlais too unnecessarily complicated for her liking - from dresses to curtains, it was as if it was all contrived to trip her up. Perhaps that was her farm girl roots showing more than she would have liked.

The Tevinter Imperium was where it all had started, at least for humans in Thedas. Historically, it was an interesting place, simply because of the vast amount of world-changing that had occurred within the very streets of Minrathous. Once upon a time, nearly all of Thedas had been the Imperium. There were ruins in every nation from their reign, the magisters brought down by their own hubris and the prophetess Andraste. From all that she'd been told, Tevinters should been a savage, angry lot, no better than abominations. But here in Minrathous there was astounding art, culture and a deep appreciation for all things of beauty. It was at direct odds with the slavery, poverty, classism and blood magic that hid beneath the surface, but appearances were very, very important.

By all appearances the man she'd called upon was very important indeed, at least according to the sumptuous decor of his abode. The room where she sat was a magnificent sort of parlor, the breakfast room, she suspected. She was seated at a gleaming round mahogany table, an offering of water, wine, bread and dried fruits just within the reach of her fingers. She took very little of it, wondering if she would be offered a proper breakfast once her host arrived. The smell of cooking food hung heavy in the air around her, and it was rich with the sweet warmth of pastry, the smoky tang of charred meats. It was almost enough to lull her into a comfortable slumber, had she been someplace more familiar. To combat the drowsiness brought on by the comfort of leather padded dining chairs and dim lighting, she cataloged her surroundings. There was ample time to admire them, since her host had delayed her and she suspected he hadn't gotten around to his morning yet, though it was almost afternoon. 

She was counting the different patterns of brocade in the room (five) when an elf entered the room. "May I present His Highness, Prince Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven." She stood and dipped her head accordingly.

Sebastian Vael was as annoyingly handsome whilst hungover as he had been the night before when he'd been three sheets to the wind. Mayhap a little more tired looking, but the stubble on his jaw suited him, as did the heavy-lidded eyes that flashed bright blue as they looked her up and down. It irked her a little, though Hawke couldn't truly place why it did. Probably because if she tossed back the wine like he had, she would wake up with a face akin to a day old mashed potato dinner, all disproportionate lumps and just as dry and flaky to boot. Whatever it was, it mattered not at the moment.

"Your Highness, it is good to see you again. I had hoped that you didn't find me too obnoxious last night, but it really was urgent that we speak."

"You're the Champion of Kirkwall?" He asked. His eyes flicked over her quickly once, then again as Dara's face fell. The scrutiny was unwelcome - he was making her unduly nervous with a gaze that lingered on her breasts for just a beat too long. He didn't remember her at all. She nodded at him and began talking quickly, her hands fluttering about as she did.

"Dara Hawke, Lady Amell. And I suppose I should add "Champion of Kirkwall", since that's why they let me into Tevinter in the first place." She said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the lofty title. All of these years, and it still didn't sit well on her shoulders. 

"Please call me Dara or Hawke, everyone does. Do you remember meeting me last night? I arrived late, but we did talk briefly. I told you I had something of the utmost import to tell you, but it could only be done in private. You bade me come today, not after offering me several chances to leave with you. I had my hired driver take you home." She explained quickly, shaking her head at the memory of her own carelessness. It had only occurred to her after they'd met that someone might have put something in his drink, but she couldn't be certain. Dara leaned in and whispered, impatient to get to the real point of her visit. "Do these walls listen?"

He was good enough to keep the disbelief off his face, carefully schooled features revealing little but she could see the incredulity in his stance, the shoulder that pulled slightly away from her. Unfortunately, there was little time to play around and convince him of her sanity. He needn't think she was all there, so long as he believed what she was about to say. They stood there, squaring off in silence, her replying to his level gaze with a defiant, stubborn look.

"Give me a moment." He muttered, once he realized that she wasn't going to relent. Sebastian walked over a corner and pulled thrice on a rope, but Hawke heard no answering bell or rush of servant's feet at the command.

"They will leave us alone." Sebastian said when he came back. "Though I can't assure you that eyes won't watch. If we sit close enough, no one will wonder what we speak of. I apologize for my behavior last night."

"Accepted." She said, smiling at him. 

He pulled a chair out and sat down in the seat next to it, turning his chair to face hers. It was clear what they were supposed to be pretending at and she moved close to him, and let him cover her hand with his. The warmth of his fingers was astounding, and she could feel hard, old callouses on the tips. What did he do that made those - perhaps playing the lute? He had lovely hands, strong and rough, but not without an elegance to them. It had been so long since anyone held her hand, she wanted to relish the sensation, but pressed on. Funny how the words were clear in her head, but sounded so absurd when spoken aloud.

"Someone wants you dead." She told him, her face all earnest seriousness.

What she hadn't expected was for Sebastian to let out a loud, wild laugh at her words.


	2. Revelations in Pieces

"I'm not laughing at you." Sebastian managed the words out, but he couldn't hold in his chuckles. Dara fixed him with a pointed stare, but didn't begin to speak again. Instead she sat back with her arms folded across her chest in clear display of her displeasure with his outburst, giving him the chance to inspect her as his laughter died down.

The Champion of Kirkwall was a radiant sort of woman, the kind that could pull people in with the merest of actions. Indeed, there was little about her that wasn't captivating. Sebastian didn't put much stock into pretty faces anymore, especially not since living in the Imperium and seeing the darkness a pleasing countenance could mask. Dara Hawke, however, wasn't just attractive physically, but had a gravitas that made her every action seem purposeful and confident. No wonder all the stories of her in Kirkwall had a band of devoted companions following behind.

One might mistake her for being quite youthful, her skin was dark as a Rivaini and it didn't show a hint of her age with wrinkles or sagging. Her face was framed by bobbed hair the color of a starless night sky with a fringe that added to her youthful image. The betrayal of age was given by her eyes, shrewd, dark and weary, looking much too old in her round face.

She was wearing robes similar to those popular in Tevinter, but not quite right. They must have come from Nevarra, because they were made of a heavier silk, like the gilt-edged winter robes worn in Minrathous. The deep raspberry color of the bodice was complimented by a set of black pauldrons, clasped together with a gold latch that caught at her hollow of her dark tawny throat. The skirt that flared out was made of a shimmering material that absorbed the sunlight into the obsidian shade of the fabric. It matched her armguards in color, if not material, but it had to be uncomfortably warm in this weather. She had shapely, seemingly endless legs and he fought his urge to follow the line of them from her crossed ankles to the hem of her skirt.

What gave her away as foreign wasn't her robes at all, he'd seen far grander on magisters here, but the fact that she paired it with boots. As alluring as the knee-high black leather boots looked paired with her dark tights, they were a far cry from the dainty slippers in vogue with the magisters. They were the excuse many used when they didn't want to dirty their feet by stepping into the streets and had to have a carriage for even the shortest of jaunts. They often circled around blocks to carry their picky passengers across the street from where they'd started.

When he collected himself, he met those dark eyes once more, and saw that they held no hint of levity. This wasn't a prank on her part, but he hadn't thought it was in the first place. It was her earnest seriousness that had set him off into laughter. She wasn't crazy either, but she was staring at him as if _he'd_ just lost his mind for laughing at her proclamation. Her plump mouth was turned downward at the corners, caught between a frown and a grimace.

"Your Highness, this is no joke!" She protested. "I've gone through great pains to find you and issue this warning. Before even taking care of my own business here."

"I'm sure you have, and I believe you." Sebastian said slowly, holding up a hand to forestall whatever interruption was brewing. "But Champion, people have been trying to kill me since before I left Starkhaven. What's so urgent about your particular warning?" He asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. There had to be a compelling reason to make her so adamant that he get this warning.

Whatever his gaze conveyed, it made Dara blush. It was a dusky sweep of deep rose across her skin and Sebastian found himself watching it spread, wondering how far down it went.

As if she could read his thoughts and had a mind to oblige them, her hand went to her bodice. Long fingers slid over the top of one breast and Sebastian abandoned all pretense of manners to follow them as a hand slid into her cleavage. A glimmer of tarnished gold appeared, a link in a chain that she extracted slowly from the confines of her clothes.

"Do you recognize this?" She asked once she'd fully revealed the item to be a piece of jewelry. "It was given to me by someone called Blythe, who had an accent almost like yours. She was in the city of Hasmal, trying to book passage here, because she couldn't make it through the jungle. The old Imperial Highway is completely ruined and reverting to its wild state, I found. When we left she was still trying, but I regret I don't know what happened to her."

He took the proffered piece, and felt his stomach drop as he did. It was still warm from her body and he opened it out of habit, though it had been over twenty years since the last time he'd done so. The inside was just as he remembered, a cameo and lock of russet colored hair inside.

"She said that your life was in danger, that it was a warning. If I could find you and give you this, you would know what it meant. Blythe had been running for a sennight without rest and looked close to collapse."

Sebastian sat in stunned silence for a moment, turning over the familiar heavy locket as he did. It was just as he remembered, but older. His thumb ran along the engraved name "Meghan."

"Who is Meghan?" Dara asked, leaning close to him.

"Meghan Vael, Princess of Starkhaven is my mother." Sebastian said, surprised he was able to sound calm with the panic raging within him. "I never saw her without this around her neck. It was a gift from my father when they married. It's his silhouette on the inside." He explained, sure that she had opened it.

"What does it mean?"

"Because they've, someone..." He broke off and turned away from her sharp eyes, tears pricking at edges his own. "My family is in trouble. Mother would not be willing to part with this without reason." Sebastian whispered, unable to make the words any louder.

"Tell me how I can and help and I will." She whispered back, but unlike his broken voice hers was hard and clear.

He began to respond, but she moved suddenly, drawing even nearer to him. Her eyes darted around the room as she threaded a hand through his hair. At first he thought he was mistaken, but her lips brushed against his cheek and Dara giggled loudly in his ear.

She smelled sweet and warm, like vanilla, cloves and skin. He could feel the warmth of her body though they barely touched, and he fought the urge to loop an arm around her waist and pull her onto his lap. The next sound that registered through his mounting confusion and slight arousal was the door opening, heavy doors creaking on their old hinges. She was so close he could feel her panic, and Sebastian fought to fix his baffled face enough to get through whatever interruption had just barged into the room.

Dara Hawke was still close to him, but standing and babbling in a way that would have convinced him that she was actually embarrassed, had he been the one to come upon the scene. She'd jumped up as if truly interrupted, a faint blush on her cheeks. Her hands flew as she spoke, brushing her hair back into place, exaggerating her words. She was either an incredible liar or truly upset about being walked in on. Either way, he didn't care at that instant, she'd given him the time he needed to stow the locket away in a hidden pocket. A slightly higher pitched voice than her normal one was making conversation with the intruder, who could only be his esteemed host, Lavinius. They'd just finished introductions, Lavinius sweeping her a bow as he gave his title in full.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt." Lavinius drawled, not sounding sorry at all, but amused. "But your carriage outside begged further inspection, and I couldn't let a visit by the Champion of Kirkwall pass me by. I did not, however, know that you were acquainted with His Highness." He said, just as Sebastian stood to face him. He should have known. While they often had many callers, Sebastian's social life didn't usually include women with their own carriages calling the morning. It was mostly the opposite - he hired a coach to take them home.

"We met last night, but didn't have the time to get to know each other properly. She did me the honor of calling today." Sebastian said lazily, his tone casual but his eyes focused firmly on Lavinius. They locked gazes and for a moment waged a battle between them. It was decided not by either of the combatants, but by Dara when she inched closer to Sebastian. It was a slight movement, but enough to draw the attention of both men, Lavinius dropping his gaze first.

"It was my mistake not to ask after the master of the house, but I'm so new in Minrathous that I wasn't sure the protocol. Forgive my misstep." She said with a fluttering smile. Lavinius returned the gesture with a hard smile of his own, until he broke it with a laugh.

"Sebastian has a talent for attracting the most interesting and lovely of friends. I must confess myself envious this time." Lavinius said, disappointment touching his words.

Dara laughed lightly. "I find it hard to believe that you're without admirers."

"None so lovely and accomplished as you, Champion." This was the second time he'd used her title, and Sebastian wondered how he'd found out. By bribing one of the footmen he supposed, or perhaps it had taken him the whole time she was here to ask the servants and get an answer. If so, Sebastian was grateful for the few moments of private they'd gotten.

It could have wound up that he'd come down from his bath and found the two of them sitting here, and he would have never gotten the locket. He had to know more about it - about her and Blythe, about what truly had brought her to him. Surely, she wouldn't come all this way just on the word of his old nanny and a locket. It was an awfully long way to run simply to hand over a necklace.

"You flatter me." Dara replied, and looked up through her lashes at Lavinius, who appeared charmed by the whole charade. "But I'm afraid I must depart. Sebastian, what time did we agree on for this evening?" She asked, shaking her head slightly as if trying to jog her memory. Her dark hair bounced softly around her jaw, only to fall right back into place.

"Ah, we hadn't decided yet but I usually have an early dinner. It leaves more time for...after." He said, lips lifted into the tiniest of smirks. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Lavinius.

"Then I'll see you later. My carriage will come for you, so don't worry about finding me." She said lightly, reaching over to clasp his wrist in her hand briefly before stepping forward to give Lavinius a small bow.

"Magister Lavinius." She said, her mouth curling into an almost a smile. Lavinius gave her another bow that didn't extend past his head and she made her way from the room an unseen servant outside the door leading her wordlessly toward the exit.

"Interesting woman. I wonder what it is that she wants." Lavinius mused.

"Me, or something she thinks I can get her." Sebastian offered, pushing the nuances of the truth to the back of his mind.

"Yes, and I wonder what that is."

"I suppose I'll find out tonight. Perhaps she talks in her sleep." Sebastian countered, earning a small chuckle from Lavinius as he left the room. He hoped that misdirection would be enough to keep his host from meddling too much into the visit. With luck, he could be rid of her within a week, and their acquaintance forgotten.

He couldn't ignore the locket, but he didn't want to give away that anything was out of the ordinary. Sebastian left it where it was, secure at his waist, the weight pressing into his hip. It silently demanded his attention, but it would have to wait until he would be alone again, an unlikely occurrence until late afternoon.

#####

The ride back to her newly rented abode was quick, the house was located in a section of the city not far from where Sebastian and Lavinius resided. The house wasn't a grand estate like the one she'd just come from, though she expected a guest home to be more modest in size and decor. Still, it had a large fountain in the front of it powered by old magic and not dwarven plumbing, the center statue crumbling and worn by countless years of water running over it.

Hawke had known only one person in Tevinter before setting out, but Feynriel had been a huge help. She didn't give specifics, not to anyone, but it was his connections that found a magister in need of income with a space to let. Officially, the woman was attending to business in the Tevinter countryside, but Feynriel had informed Hawke that an apprentice had tried to ruin the woman, siphoning away her finances chief among a myriad of other betrayals. The apprentice wasn't wholly unsuccessful, and Hawke assumed if the magister still lived, however impoverished, the apprentice did not.

It was Feynriel's assistance too that pointed her towards Sebastian Vael. The night before, she'd gone to the party alone since Feynriel was busy with his own studies, and she had no wish to further intrude on his hospitality. Though he'd been raised in the Kirkwall alienage, he'd been accepted in the Imperium without question because of his rare power. Magisters fought to apprentice him, and he'd learned far more in Minrathous about his abilities and how to master them than he could have in the Free Marches. She was glad to see he'd gained some measure of control.

Years after their first meeting, he was still thanking her for saving him from slavers and his own dreaming powers. Hawke insisted there was no debt between them, but Feynriel thought otherwise. It was useful in the end, because he helped her whenever he could. Whether he was acting out the long indebtedness he felt for her, she couldn't say, but he never asked questions either and for that, she was grateful.

Even though she liked Feynriel, Hawke didn't divulge why she'd undertaken the trek to Tevinter. Like most, he assumed it was to get away from Kirkwall and the fallout. During their travels they heard rumors of other Circles and templars warring, breaking away from the Chantry. Anders had wanted to seek it out and see what was going on in the aftermath of Kirkwall, but Dara had no such desire. This was no longer her fight, at least, not for the moment. She was so very tired. In the future, maybe her fate would bring her back into the fray, but there had been too much fighting in her past, too much blood on her hands.

The way she left Kirkwall, running once again even after all she'd achieved, it left a taste like ashes in her mouth. Knight-Captain Cullen hadn't come after her, but she knew he and his Order weren't exactly disinterested in her whereabouts either. Dara made it clear numerous times that Anders was free to go off and do whatever he thought was necessary, but he never left. Anders stayed by her side as they traveled, and was mostly helpful during their journey. Whether it was her keeping him near or the chance to get into Tevinter, she didn't know.

It had been a long, arduous journey for many reasons besides the distance. The stories of the jungle were true - the predators, the oppressive heat, the brush so thick no light could shine through. They'd been forced to take ship instead of traversing it, and Dara couldn't imagine what the interior was like, if the edge they'd brushed upon was so treacherous. Fenris told her stories of Fog Warriors and huge tigers, but those were tales of Seheron, not the dense mainland jungle. Still, she didn't want to try her luck at the thicker jungle that served as a natural border for the Imperium.

"You're back." The words made her start, and Hawke looked up to see Anders standing in a doorway.

Even now, she was struck by the difference in his appearance. He was vastly changed from the feathered pauldrons and stubble he'd had in Kirkwall. His hair was close cropped and colored dark brown, and he was clean shaven after traveling with beard for a while. She could still see the faint outlines of it on his face, though he was bronzing nicely in the Tevinter sun. Though still lean, he'd lost what they'd once laughingly dubbed the 'mages figure' - pale with arms fit to hold books and staves, not swords. They'd all done some training as they ran, because she was sure that magic wouldn't be enough to keep them safe in Minrathous. After his Warden training Anders was decent with a sword already, but hated using them. Unfortunately, Justice still revealed himself from time to time, but Anders thought his own curiosity about the Imperium was winning out over Justice's need to surface.

Those who knew the face of the Healer from Darktown might have recognized him upon a close look, but from a distance he looked convincingly different enough that he wasn't immediately spotted. In fact, it was easier for him to hide than her - it seemed everyone south of the Minanter knew her face and those who didn't knew the story of the Champion, complete with description. "How did it go?" He asked.

"Well, I gave him the locket, so he doesn't think I'm some loon. He's coming for dinner, or at least, I think he is." Hawke pinched the bridge of her nose, as a wave of exhaustion crashed against her.

"Hawke." Anders was next to her in a heartbeat, his hands up and ready to heal. She shook her head to stop him.

"You don't need another patient." She said softly, and then added, "It's just the heat, I think. It's too hot for these damn boots, I feel like my legs are on fire."

Anders gave her a small smile that clearly conveyed that he was not truly convinced, but he let her gently brush his hands aside.

"Let's just get everything ready for tonight, shall we? We have to figure out the correct protocol - I fear I may have made a gaffe already that the magister Lavinius has noticed." She confided, and he nodded as if he understood without elaboration. With a small smile, Dara left him behind and headed further into the manor.

Merrill was in the sitting room, a large tome on her lap. Hawke poked her head in to greet her, but didn't pause for longer than that. The elf looked well enough - she'd been quite sick after the crossing to Minrathous. Though all the moving was second nature to Merrill, Hawke feared the last leg of their trip had been too strenuous in her weakened state. There were times when Hawke had thought they wouldn't make it save for Merrill's guidance, but she'd fallen ill just as they'd arrived in Tevinter. Thinner from sickness, exhaustion and travel, Merrill still didn't look her normal self but wasn't looking any worse either.

Dara made her way quickly towards the personal apartments, and stopped at one of the modest suites that lined the corridor. She slept in the grand room at the end of the hall, her friends insisting she take the space. It hadn't mattered to her in the slightest, she'd lived in Ferelden mud huts, Kirkwall estates and everything between. Sleeping on dirt floors brought back childhood memories. Still, she was grateful for the privacy and space. Perhaps she'd gotten used to the Amell estate in Kirkwall more than she'd realized.

Dara gave a short knock on the slightly ajar mahogany door but received no answer - not that she waited for one. The windows were open and letting in a warm breeze and sunlight. Vestiges of coolness from the night before still lingered, though it was approaching midday. Inside the room was one lone person, curled into an armchair.

"Fenris." She said softly, and he motioned for her to sit down across from him. She sat on the table itself, right in front of him and reached out to touch his hand. He allowed it, but she didn't let her touch linger.

"How did your meeting go?" He asked.

"Well enough, I suppose. He'll be here tonight. I want to help him, but I didn't have time to tell him of the bounty on his head. I guess that pleasant news will have to wait for dinner."

"Indeed. I am sure you will get a chance, though I do not envy you the task of explaining that situation."

"I didn't make mention of you either. Or Danarius. He seems more trustworthy than Feynriel's magister at the very least." Dara sought to reassure Fenris, but it came out sounding like she was talking to herself.

"I would not trust any magister, especially not one so keen to develop the powers of that boy."

Dara sighed but said nothing. She'd thought along those lines too, but when the words came out of Fenris they were sharp and bitter. He'd grown more withdrawn as they'd gotten closer to the Imperium, and holed up in his room upon arrival. It was better this way for their safety, but she worried for him.

Despite everything, all of their differences and Kirkwall, she and Fenris had managed to become very close friends. Not the kind that slept together, because Dara couldn't bring herself to change a friendship into something more, though she'd seen the lines when they were cast. Isabela, Merrill, Fenris and Anders had all tried to get her attention in one way or another, and were all disappointed when she gently let the threads drop. She could have fallen in love with any one of them, if she'd been of a mind to try.

Without romantic entanglement she'd sought to make her friendship with Fenris rock solid. Dara wasn't quite sure why - but even when they'd first met, his presence had been important to her. So for years, they'd worked and laughed together, and little by little, he trusted and let his guard down. She'd been the first person he'd confided in about his relationship with Isabela, though he spared Hawke the details Isabela would later tell her. It had been a brief period, but he'd come to know happiness, friendship and family - and then they'd lost it all. She swallowed thickly. Kirkwall was still too much to think about, though it occupied nearly all her thoughts. Dara turned back to Fenris and spoke again.

"Are you unwell?" She asked.

"You don't have to keep asking me that." He said gruffly, but then softened his tone. "I appreciate your concern, Hawke. I feel as well as ever, and there haven't been any changes with my markings since before. Do not worry yourself."

She smiled at that. "Alright then. I'm going to take a nap. This heat is killing me. I can't see how you got used to Kirkwall after this, even the summer heat would seem frigid in comparison. Can you see to it that there's enough food and all that for one more at dinner?" Fenris nodded and she knew that he would tell Anders, who would instruct the servants in the kitchen. Not only did he hate talking to them, he didn't want to be seen, and perhaps that was for the best.

She slid through the door, leaving it ajar. Sebastian Vael, Prince of Starkhaven was coming for dinner. Somewhere, her mother was proud of her. It almost made her smile.


	3. Dinner Date

Dara woke up from her nap covered in a sheen of sweat and anxious for her dinner with Sebastian Vael. The house already hummed with activity, she could hear people moving and voices from the floor below.

She lay in bed with only a sheet pushed down to her waist to cover her nakedness, uncomfortable and unwilling to get up. The earlier breeze had ended, dying into the humidity and becoming a wall of heat. The house had an elaborate fan system that was supposed to be fueled by magic and keep it cool, but she hadn't figured out exactly how it worked. Even Fenris didn't know, though he'd experienced it before. Danarius had one, but assigned an apprentice to keep it in working order and practice their magic. Slaves had been forbidden to touch it, and their quarters hadn't been provided the benefits. Dara didn't know how to make it work at all, let alone how to extend it to the servants, so they all suffered in the heat.

Her hair stuck out unevenly, damp with sweat and resting heavy on her head. She wanted to wash it anyway, but would have to now to make the unruly bits fall back into something resembling normal before dinner. Dara thought wistfully of Isabela's hair, sleek and dark under her kerchief or Merrill's elaborate ponytails, short and well-kept. Her hair had never been so compliant, not even when she bothered to give it extra attention.

Her thoughts slid back to Isabela and she wondered how the pirate was fairing. Isabela had been her cover, the pirate and Varric making their way south - Ferelden bound, spreading stories of sightings of the Champion as they went. It was a good enough plan, hatched quickly out of necessity, once Dara had announced that she was going to Tevinter. It wasn't unexpected news, not to any of them.

Oh Kirkwall, her dear city! It was strange that Kirkwall, with it's cheap ale, ridiculous nobles, whores aplenty and the poverty that comes with hollow freedom had become such a home to her. But how Dara missed it, the place where she'd lost her family and built another. She lay back on the bed, sliding the sheet up over her further as she lost herself in memories. They played in a chronological chorus, from when the boat docked with Aveline at her side, all the way to the end, where Varric had pulled her close and brushed his lips against hers, murmuring for her to 'stay alive'.

Later she thought about that kiss, because it was so characteristically Varric, but not. It had been the only kiss she'd gotten in a long time, and while it wasn't heated or romantic, it had a wistful quality that made her wonder. He kept his truth so far buried within him that Dara couldn't rightly figure out what he'd meant by kissing her goodbye. Varric, well, he could have tempted her farther than the others, but she never saw a happy end for them. He deserved a happier ending than his beginning.

"Lethallan, are you awake?" Merrill trilled outside of her door. Her voice was a little reedy as she dispelled her sickness, but she otherwise sounded her usual self.

"Come in, Merrill." Hawke answered, and the door swung open. It was pushed by Merrill's foot, her arms full. Dara would have gotten up to help, but decided her nudity would fluster Merrill more.

"The tailor's assistant dropped off the dresses that were finished. They said the others, especially the ball gown, weren't going to be ready for a while." Merrill said, setting down the white box on the edge of the bed. "I peeked. They look wonderful, Hawke."

"I hope they're wonderful enough for a prince tonight. Otherwise he might just think I'm the one that wants him dead and be done with me."

Merrill tsked at the statement, frowning at Dara. "He has to believe you, whether he wants to or not. It won't be easy, but I'm sure you can do it."

"You have more confidence than I do..." Dara started, but the door opened again, this time with Anders bursting through it. Hawke drew the sheet further up her chest at the intrusion, not knowing Anders was the cause until he was standing in front of her.

"I've almost got the fan system working, but I need another mage and I can't find...oh there you are." Anders said, looking at Merrill, then back at Hawke. "If I'm interrupting..." He said, eyebrow cocked as he looked between the two of them.

"Don't be daft." Hawke said, snorting. "I was sleeping and my consignment arrived from the tailor. Just in time too, because we have our fancy dinner guest tonight."

"We're going to have to eat outside in candlelight and stifling humidity to get a break from the heat in here if we don't get going. Come on."

"Give me a moment." Dara said, waving them both out. "And thank you for bringing the dresses, Merrill."

They were a strange company, she knew that. Hawke was the binding factor, because none of her other companions had any great affection for each other, though she thought that Merrill's great compassion made her understand Fenris and Anders in a way they hadn't done for her. Still, on the journey they spent little time talking to each other, even the reliable distraction of card games no longer covering the gap without Varric's warm guidance and Isabela's rampant cheating under Aveline's stern gaze. She missed the others, and Kirkwall, but forced her mind forward, as she always had.

#####

Sebastian had spent most of his day snapping at anyone stupid enough to bother him, and never ever taking that damned locket out of his pocket. It wound up that he wouldn't have time until he got into the carriage that would take him to Dara Hawke, early that evening.

The day crawled as he waited for dinner, Sebastian careful not to act too out of the ordinary. He made sure his clothes were impeccable, that his hair had a light, sweet smelling oil in it and that his lips were softened by beeswax. It was the same preparation he'd do to meet any woman of sufficient rank and interest to him, but it felt like artifice.

Sebastian vacillated between anger and dire curiosity. In anger, he didn't care what this woman had to say, because nothing could tamp down the panic within him. But in curiosity, too many questions rolled around his mind, and kept him gazing into the distance whenever he could afford to be distracted. This dinner was a farce, because he was only going as a way to confront her. His servants had been out scouting all day, and came back with little information about her, but plenty of her location and background.

The Champion of Kirkwall was acquainted with a young man apprenticed to a very high magister. It was this connection and her own dubious celebrity that led to the Archons tolerating the presence of a known unstable mage within the crumbling walls of Minrathous. The house she rested within was rented, and she wasn't there alone though his men hadn't been able to be positive on how many were with her.

Not that it mattered as he sped towards her in her hired carriage. He bumped along the short path to her home, the dour face of the hired coachmen clad in the somber grey that showed no outward allegiance. The coach itself was very fine, his seat covered in plush velvet, curtains over the windows, carpet under his feet. She must still have some money left over from her Deep Roads expedition or other investments if she could afford to live like this in Tevinter. The carriage arrived on time and he departed swiftly, a little nervous now that his date had begun. He wasn't alone in the coach, but had only taken two guards with him lest he arouse suspicion from Lavinius.

The house was warm, but not stifling as he was shown inside by a servant. He could smell incense perfuming the air, something that reminded him of long ago trips to the Chantry in Starkhaven with his mother. Openly taking a look around as he was led to the dining room, he noted that the place was opulent in the style of magisters that like to think themselves thinkers or intellectuals. Books were rebound in matching colors, pretentious sets of matching leather that made artistic displays on each shelf. There were great volumes of history that he doubted the magister here had ever even read the spine let alone any of the contents.

He was just beginning to wonder how long this hallway was, cautious fingers sliding carefully towards the dagger in his belt when the servant stopped and opened a door. He was announced and walked in, his guard still at his side.

She was standing there waiting, and made a small curtsy at his announcement. Sebastian hadn't know what to expect at all from this dinner, but Lady Hawke was dressed for dinner in the Tevinter fashion, an obviously recent purchase. The dress was a dark green and suited her, slinking over her form instead of clinging to it. Save for her change of dress, she looked much as she had that morning. He noticed that she wasn't armed visibly, but reasoned she had no end of resources in her own space. It was he that should be on the defensive.

"Prince Vael, I am so glad you decided to come." Lady Hawke was expansive, as if she hadn't done all in her power to arrange the meeting. "Sit. Dinner will be served momentarily. While we wait I will introduce you to my companions."

"Thank you for your invitation." He said primly, using the pause to look the room over. He reassured himself that his guard stood at the door and then smiled at Hawke. The room they were wasn't a formal dining area, but a more intimate room with a round table. Candles provided most of the room's light, but there was a window on a side wall. The rest of the room's decor was simply paintings and a harp in a corner, though it lacked a musician for their dinner. He had noticed the extra place settings, but since he saw no other guests had guessed that she might have people waiting. He'd bristled at her pronouncement, but tried to control the reaction and keep his appearance calm. Of course she wanted to have more of her people with them - he was on her territory. At least they weren't all hidden in alcoves, spying and aiming arrows at his heart.

"Come in, please." She called out, and from a door behind her shoulder, two elves appeared. It looked to be the servant's entrance, but these two clearly weren't the help.

There was a woman, who had chin length brown hair and Dalish markings on her face. He knew her by reputation from the tales of the Champion and her companions, though he didn't know how much truth was left to them once it reached his ears. The Dalish outcast who moved to Kirkwall and aided Hawke. The elves here liked to speculate about her a great deal, though the slaves dismissed the story outright. She was rumored to be a mage, but he saw no staff on her back. She was wearing a dress that seemed to consist mostly of well placed ruffles and accessorized with bare feet. The shift was a light color though he couldn't tell if it were white or yellow in the candlelight. Sebastian moved forward and took her hand, placing a kiss upon the top of it.

"My lady." He said, making her giggle. Her eyes had widened at his kiss, but she'd accepted it readily enough.

"This is Merrill." Hawke said.

"It's lovely to meet you. I don't think we've ever met a real prince before, have we?" Merrill asked in a bubbling voice. Sebastian smiled back at her without conscious thought.

"I hope I impress." He said, earning another giggle from her, but only a wry smile from Hawke. The man at her side, however was giving him quite the impressive scowl.

"And Your Highness," Hawke said, suppressing a grin as she did, "this is Fenris."

He bowed slightly to the man, who nodded his white head at him. There were rumors that Dara Hawke had freed a Tevinter slave, but this was no mere slave - he was a Lyrium Warrior. An invention of the magisters, these warriors were without peers in the Imperium. Sebastian had only ever seen one more man like the one that stood in front of him, and he hadn't had tattoos as extensive, for Sebastian could see them shining under the black tunic and hose Fenris wore. This elf was immensely powerful, and the reason Dara Hawke didn't have to be armed. For all her magic and mighty reputation, Fenris was her deadliest weapon.

"It is nice to meet you, Serah Fenris." Sebastian said, offering the words as a respectful gift. Fenris repeated his nod, though Sebastian felt his gaze intensify. Hawke, however, seemed satisfied with this introduction and motioned them back towards the table.

"Well now that we're all acquainted," she said lightly, as if they had simply been playing cards together or met by chance in the market, "let's settle in. We have much to speak about."

The wine was poured and Sebastian sipped cautiously at his, though he'd watched her uncork the bottle and he'd poured his own. Dara Hawke was poised to drop a bombshell, but was holding back. After his excruciating afternoon of waiting he was too impatient to sit through courses of food and drink, and gave her a prod.

"Do you mind skipping the pleasantries and telling me why you're so interested in helping me and what you want in return?" He asked calmly as he smoothed the napkin over his lap, then looking up to meet her eye with a wink. "Or were you saving that for after dessert?"

This was Hawke's chance to laugh, just as it had been his that morning.


	4. The Story So Far

"So you believe me now?" Dara asked, amused by this turn of events. Just this morning she'd told him those same words, but he hadn't seemed to care. They'd been interrupted just when it seemed like they were going to start their conversation, so she didn't know what action he might have taken in the hours they'd been apart. Whatever meaning that locket had for him, it had certainly changed his disposition towards her assistance, if not her.

"Perhaps not quite to believe yet, but I am more...amenable to listening. This could still be an elaborate plan to kill me, but I doubt your friends will want to get their fancy dress clothes all bloody." Sebastian looked calm as he said his piece, but Dara could see the strength behind his words. He was interested, but also challenging her. If she were going to do something, he was letting her know he was ready for it.

She waved a hand at him. "Please, Your Highness, put yourself at ease. I just want to talk. But first, drinks. I'd be a poor hostess if I didn't at least pour you some wine first."

"I thought I mentioned this morning - it's just Sebastian." He said as Dara got up and poured the wine herself. The bottles of wine and the starting bread were already laid upon a sideboard in easy reach. She didn't know this house and its servants, so Hawke tried to rely upon herself as much as she could. 

"I don't believe you did." Dara said with a smile. He was charming, that drawling accent pulling her in even when she knew to be on the defensive. "Then you must call me Hawke. Or Dara, if you want, but everyone calls me Hawke."

"Hawke, you've quite the reputation, killing the Arishok." Sebastian was careful with her tone, but Hawke was on alert. She placed the basket of bread in the middle of the table next to the bottle of wine she'd filled the glasses from. She noticed that Sebastian didn't drink out of his, but merely lifted it to his lips, even as Merrill took great gulps of her wine and Fenris small sips. He was waiting for her then.

"The Arishok nearly killed me, though that wasn't the hardest fight I've ever lived through." Dara kept her voice even, but it was hard to keep the edge out. "I would not like to speak of it tonight."

"Forgive me, but that wasn't an attempt to draw you out about the Qunari. It was more me wondering if you killed my family, since you're more than capable of it." There was only the question in his amazingly blue eyes, hard as sapphire as they stayed locked on her face.

Merrill gasped at his words, and Fenris downright growled, but Sebastian looked unperturbed at the distress he'd caused. Hawke sighed because she knew that he was more than right to ask it, though she hated that she had to answer.

"No, I give you my word on that. But you're concerned that they are dead, and it's because of that locket I gave you this morning. I don't have an answer for you about that, I'm sorry." She sighed again and took a piece of bread, breaking it into smaller pieces before popping the bits into her mouth. They all sat in silence, Fenris still glaring his disapproval at Sebastian until she spoke again. "Let me get dinner and I'll tell you the entire story of how I got it and why I came to Tevinter in the first place. Then you'll tell me what we're going to do about it."

"We?" Sebastian asked. 

"We're working together." Dara said. She didn't explain more, but got up and went through an adjoining door and into the kitchen. She could have rang for service but didn't want to, she needed to be away from the table. Instead she brought in as much as she could herself, with one servant following behind her. The food was put on the table, the bread cleared and replaced on the sideboard.

It was only when she sat back down that she realized in her absence Merrill had been trying to keep the conversation going. Her hands fluttered nervously, as if she were using them to speak but had no idea what to do with them after her point was made. Sebastian was grinning across the table at her, and Fenris was pointedly not looking at her.

"Please, everyone eat." Hawke said as she sat down. "Let's be comfortable for this very long story."

"Your Highness - sorry, Sebastian - what do you know of the events in Kirkwall?" The question is asked in the best way, as if she had no firsthand knowledge or didn't want to color the answer that she got. Still, he looked up at her with a dry sort of skepticism in his features.

Sebastian shrugged at her. "It is said that after one of your associates blew up the Chantry, you went ahead and destroyed the city again, worse than after the Qunari. Oh and there was a bit about the Knight-Commander being a ghost you had to exorcise or something, though I didn't put much credance in that before I met you."

Dara's eyebrow nearly disappeared into her hairline at his statement. "And now that you've become acquainted with me, this whole day, you think I could 'exorcise' a Knight-Commander?"

"I think you could do anything you wanted, should you want it enough."

"That's a fair enough point." Fenris said. When he spoke it startled her, and she looked over at him in time to see him returning to his meal with gusto. The food was very good, though Hawke hadn't done much more than taste hers.

"The first part is correct, the Chantry in Kirkwall is no more." Dara said, and Sebastian sat back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. "It wasn't something I could have prevented, and I am sorry for the lives lost."

Sebastian was giving her the oddest of looks, as if he couldn't decide whether to scream or cry, and she kept talking in case he did the former. "But I didn't lay waste to the city, and the mages and templars were already at war, the events of that day just made it out in the open. The Circles all over have been experiencing their own kinds of rebellions against Chantry oversight, but I know little of it, having never been a Circle Mage myself."

"You're been an apostate your whole life?" Sebastian asked. Some of the anger still lingered, it sat in tight lines around the corners or his mouth, but if he was willing to ask her a question, he wasn't going to yell.

"Yes, as was my sister, before she died. My father spent time in a Circle, but eventually fled to Ferelden with my Mother." The mention of Bethany made a pang in her heart, but it was an old wound. Still, it hurt, like a dull ache in her chest. She took a few more bites of food and a sip of wine before continuing. 

"We escaped Kirkwall, but I was already planning to leave before....before everything. It was just timing." She said softly.

"Why were you going to leave?" 

"Because of me." Fenris answered for her. "I needed to come back here, though I do not relish being in Tevinter at all."

"Lyrium warrior, deadly and well trained by the look of you. Why wouldn't you want to come back here? I am sure that one such as yourself would be highly in demand." Sebastian asked, properly confused.

In answer Fenris gave Sebastian an appraising look before speaking. "Would you be so anxious to go back to a place you hated, Prince? Why are you not in your homeland then?"

"Starkhaven wouldn't have me, even if I wanted to go back." He looked over at Dara. "Though I am interested to know what your story has to do with my family."

"I am getting to that. It's important that you understand it all, as it is." Dara sighed heavily. The weight of this was getting to her, but it would be easier once it was off her chest. At least, she hoped it would be. 

"Take your time, lethallin." Merrill said. She reached over and covered Dara's hand with her own. "It's a very long story, and leaving Kirkwall was hard for all of us." 

Sebastian took the reproach and bowed his head. "A thousand pardons. I never meant to be rude to any of you." He looked around the table as he said it, including Fenris in his apology. There was a silence for a moment, where they all ate and drank and collected their thoughts. When Hawke was finished wool-gathering, she continued.

"As I said, the timing played a big role in our decision to leave Kirkwall." She had his attention fully and didn't want to lose it. "Fenris needs help with his markings, and anything relating to lyrium in the skin just isn't known outside the Imperium. I was hoping that someone here could help us, another mage or someone that could introduce us to the right people to help." Hawke said. 

"But we left Kirkwall after defending the mages there from the Rite of Annulment. It was the right thing to do, I think. The Knight-Commander there had gone mad, even her Knight-Captain turned against her in the end." She rubbed her eyes, unable to get the sight of Cullen drawing his sword on Meredith from her mind. Maker save her, there were so many good people in Kirkwall, so many experiences and shades of grey that she wasn't even sure where she stood in that fight now. It certainly wasn't on top, not after fleeing it all.

"So now you know, at least the primary reason why we are here. A confluence of timing and a half-laid plan, forced into hasty execution." Dara surmised primly, taking another drink of wine, pretending not to be emotionally devastated by the force of the memories she'd just summoned. "It was while we traveled that we met your woman, Blythe, at a wayhouse."

"We were in Hasmal. We made good time, I hadn't fallen ill yet." Merrill said explaining her part in the story. "And we stopped because getting through the jungle was going to be dreadful. Even Fenris wasn't sure about it." She said, looking at the other elf sidelong as she said it. "And he did it once before."

"It's a treacherous path to walk." Fenris said tersely.

"But we made it." Hawke said. "Blythe was short of coin and didn't look in any shape to do odd jobs to earn it. She looked a nanny or a housemaid and like she left in a rush." Hawke remarked, recalling the woman in her mind.

"She was my nanny when I was young, when I was older she still looked after me." Sebastian said, confirming her analysis. "I thought she might have gone by now, but my brothers have heirs, children. They could have kept her on."

"Well she looked dead on her feet. She had a guardsman with her, but only one. They were trying to travel incognito."

"If so," Sebastian said slowly, "then how did you get my mother's locket?"

"I'm getting there." Dara grumbled, but then put her hand up in apology. "Let me eat more first." Fenris picked up the thread of her story.

"The guardsman was asking about, quietly, for passage to Minrathous. We were doing the same. Our paths crossed." Fenris said.

"That would not be enough for one of the Prince's own to confide in you." Sebastian said, setting his arms across his chest. They were losing him, he was growing impatient with their meandering story. 

"Blythe was ill, weary with travel and heartsick. Travel in the hold of a ship didn't agree with her. I healed what I could for her. Your man was trying to get her to you before she passed, but there was no boat that would have been quick enough for her not to die on the journey. He had to stay to guard her, and she should be recovering still, if the healing took. She couldn't go on, but asked me to do it for her. I swore it." Hawke said, and with that, Sebastian's gaze snapped to her face once again.

"Then only I can release you from it." He said slowly.

She nodded. "I was trying to tell you before. This morning, last night. You were drunk when I got to that blasted party though. I'm sorry I was so late." She said, apologizing more to herself than him, but he waved a hand at her. "And today, your magister came bounding in before I could do more than give you the locket."

"Kneel." He said only the one word, and though it wasn't harsh, it was a command. Dara followed it.

"In the name of the Prince of Starkhaven, let me hear your burden." 

"Prince Sebastian of Starkhaven, I was sent to give you the message that Blythe could not. She said, 'The white hills bloom poppy over lavender but snow will fall.' And then she entrusted to me the locket, which I have already given to you."

"Rise then, and be relived of your burden." Sebastian said softly, his voice a little kinder than it was before. "Thank you, Champion of Kirkwall. I am in your debt." 

He didn't explain what the message meant, but she didn't expect him to, not yet. Instead they spoke of lighter things and finished their meal with coffee, cooled so that it might provide refreshment. Hawke felt a little guilty for the one tiny lie she told - it had been Anders that healed Blythe, not her, but she didn't want to reveal Anders' presence here before she had a better measure of Sebastian. Anders was a very wanted man.

She led him out when the dinner ran to its inevitable conclusion, letting Merrill and Fenris stay behind as she walked Sebastian to the doors of her rented mansion. "I hope that you will let me help you, Prince Sebastian. I told Blythe I would. She was dreadfully worried for you."

Sebastian turned to face her, leaning against he doorjamb. He almost looked at ease, as if this could have been his space instead of hers. Dara got a good look at him as he did the same to her - it was as if she'd been with him all night, but only now got to see him clearly. Still handsome, with an easy, winsome smile, but he was cleverer than he looked, and not as far from his noble background as he seemed. Whatever had driven him from Starkhaven wasn't enough to make him disloyal.

"Are you worried for me?" He asked. The way he drew out the word 'worried' made her shiver, pulling the sound about and twisting it in the Starkhaven brogue until the sound became something deeper and more meaningful than the word itself.

"Yes." Dara answered in a quick, breathy voice that sounded nothing at all like her own.

"Then perhaps I need your personal protection, since you're known to be very deadly and I'm in such a precarious position. Duty and responsibility does come with rewards from time to time, or so I was told. You could come back to my rooms and see that I'm well-guarded all night long." He was practically purring now and Dara had moved much too close to him. It would be a good way to ensure that he wasn't in danger, and well, it was her big plan anyway - pretend to be his newest lover, keep him safe until he could return to Starkhaven in exchange for his help getting aid for Fenris without alerting the magisters. 

But this wasn't the way, and it wasn't her way at all. Instead of answering, she stepped right onto his foot, her booted foot right over one of his, careful not to stomp but hard enough to get her point across. To her surprise, he laughed, a hearty, open laugh she hadn't heard before. 

Quick as lightning, his arm caught her around the waist. "I didn't mean to offend you. But you can hardly blame me for taking the chance." He said, mirth still making his mouth twitch.

"You must not know many Fereldan women. Not a single one I knew growing up would have taken that offer." She said. Well, probably not from a Fereldan man, but a prince might have had more than a few thinking that it was okay to fall into a tumble with a rogue. He certainly was a rogue, both in manner and training. He had the telltale arm muscles of an archer, and she'd spied lockpicks on him that morning when they'd gotten close. She was sure he'd been amiable and fun, at least for a night.

It was too soon though, no matter how desperate she was for a tumble, and they didn't quite trust each other yet. Maybe someday soon, but not that night.

"I see." Sebastian said, his arm still lazily around her. Dara didn't want him to let her go - there was a comfort in his touch, and yes, he excited her more than she wanted to admit to him. "Well, I'll try to learn more about what a Fereldan woman might like, aside from running away with fugitives and staying at wayside inns."

"Cheese." She said absently, and then shut her stupid mouth before it could betray her further. Sebastian laughed again, this time quieter, more of a chuckle, but his eyes smiled, twinkling prettily with renewed laughter.

He wisely chose not to goad her again, but slipped his arm from her and bent and kissed her hand. "My lady." He said before walking out the doors with his guard. 

Dara slumped against the wall, watching the door long after it had been shut. Her hand still burned where his lips had pressed against her skin and her thoughts were already racing back to his offer to bed her. All night, he'd said, and said it like a promise. She had to bite her lip to bring herself back to reality. This wasn't a good sign, not at all.


	5. The Dance of Deception

Would that he could have gone and been a wastrel in Antiva instead and gotten that message by falcon instead of secondhand from the lips of a dying nursemaid. That was the code for rebellion, but when Blythe gave it to Hawke, there were hopes for reinforcements. He hoped sorely that they had come in time. His mother was almost certainly the one that had sent the message, and likely dead if she had sent a maid to escape instead of running herself. He just didn't know for sure, and wouldn't for days. Where were his messengers and spies? Where were the people that he usually put on this? Hasmal was a two day ride down the Minanter from Starkhaven, so his messengers might have been right behind Hawke, if they lived.

It was all too much, and Sebastian's head spun thinking of it all. At least he was full enough to keep the wine from addling his wits. While she may have played the serving maid, Dara Hawke didn't fool him - she held her fork and ate like a proper noble woman. Perhaps it was the unusual combination of her life in Kirkwall as Champion and Lady Amell merging with her Ferdeldan roots that caused her to slide between roles so easily. Whatever it was interested him, when he probably shouldn't have been thinking that way at all about her, Blight take it all.

She might have stepped on his foot, but he knew attraction when he saw it, and this wasn't a case of him seeing it as he wanted. He had enough of a past reading people that he felt the hitch in her breathing when he stepped close, saw the way she closed her eyes when they touched.

He wanted her, but it was an old, familiar itch. Attraction and lust came easily to him, but more than that wasn't in his cards. If he had to work so closely with her, perhaps it was wise that she'd ended things tonight. Still, he chuckled to himself when he thought of her. 'Cheese'. Of all things for a woman to say she loved, not flowers or poetry, but cheese.

"Your correspondence, Your Highness." A servant brought Sebastian his evening messages, and he rifled through them.

Some speculations must have gotten out about him and Dara Hawke, because a small number of the envelopes contained invitations asking about her. There were requests for him to bring her along, should he have her favor, and even one for the two of them to call on a magister at their convenience, to come for dinner or an informal gathering. People must have noticed them together at the party before, or seen her calling on him earlier in the day. Hawke would have known that everyone in Tevinter from the lowest slave to the Archon himself were interested her movements, and waiting to for her to reveal what brought her so far from home. The day felt a lifetime long, and Sebastian yawned. He was tired, the anticipation of the dinner had lent him furious energy earlier and now the food itself made his fatigue run deep.

Lavinius would have seen all of these messages; a servant had likely either told or shown them to him before Sebastian arrived home. Not that they would break the seals that bound the letters, but magisters each had their own sigils and the servants knew them on sight. Sebastian wondered about his erstwhile friend and companion, not sure of what his motives were. It could be that Dara provided a safe harbor in turbulent waters, but all things come with a price. He itched to leave all of this behind, but knew any sudden departure, especially now that he and the Champion were seen as a set would raise suspicion.

There was nothing to do but wait and see how it played out. Sebastian let his mind blank as he slipped into his bed, eager to get some sleep.

It was only then that he remembered she hadn't told him what she wanted him to do for her and her lyrium laden elf. That he supposed, would have to wait for the morrow.

#####

Feynriel came to visit her the next afternoon. "The whole city is abuzz with the news that the Champion of Kirkwall and her entourage have come to Tevinter." He informed her. "There is also word that you're cozy with a certain lothario Prince of Starkhaven." He added, flashing a smile at her.

She groaned, one hand over her eyes dramatically. She heard Feynriel chuckle at her distress, but he continued. "It's just whispers right now. More people are interested in whether or not you go to see the Archon to be declared a magister. You should if you're planning on staying any real length of time. It isn't good to cause offense."

"Maybe I could figure out a way to pay a less formal visit." Dara said, thinking. "I'm not sure I want to be a magister for any length of time."

Feynriel shrugged at her, not sure how to answer. He was much changed these years since their first meeting in Kirkwall. His lanky teenage figure had filled into something broader, but still sleek and elven looking. He still had the long hair, but no longer braided it. It hung loose over his shoulders, spilling over them like cornsilk onto his dark pewter mage robes. He was striking, and no longer had the tiredness about him that lingered from when he was afraid of his dreaming power and hated to sleep. The young mage had a commanding presence, but he was still deferential to Hawke.

"How are your studies?" Dara asked.

"They progress. There are other dreamers here in the Imperium but they guard themselves in person and in dreams. My dreams hold incredible power, but I'm loathe to use it. Most of the time I just want a good night's sleep." He admitted with a sheepish laugh. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to be much help to you more, but my lessons take up so much time." He added. She hadn't completely confided in him, but rather told him that they were looking for things from Fenris's past. With Danarius dead, it was safer for Fenris, but harder to get any information that might help with her true aims.

"It's alright. We know it's likely to be a long search, though I hope it isn't pointless." She said, and Feynriel gave her a broad smile. She returned it absently caught up in her own thoughts.

Fenris remembered Danarius consulting some different tomes at points to augment his powers or add more lyrium, but he hasn't recognized anything yet. He couldn't read then, so there's no way to know what they might have said. Of course there was always Varania, but Fenris was reluctant to involve her after their last meeting. His sister was still alive after her treachery in Kirkwall, but Fenris grew livid whenever it was mentioned that she might help.

"You know, you might start with an accounting of the late magisters estate." He suggested. "Maybe the list of his belongings might account for something, thought they are likely either in a storage bin or claimed by others." He mused for a second and then perked up. "You might even be able to lay claim to them, since you are responsible for his demise."

"Please, don't remind me." She said. "But I've thought along those same lines. It's tricky, since I know so little of the law in the Imperium. We're looking into it though, but since were aren't Imperial citizens, it might have just been murder."

He nodded at her, but said nothing else on the matter. Instead they took to time to talk politics, and people. The whole society was new to her, but reminded Hawke of when she'd first become a noble in Kirkwall. There were a few calling cards and invitations trickling in from interested parties, and she showed them to Feynriel in the hopes that he might help her narrow them down to people she should see.

"Do you know anything about the magister Lavinius?" She asked cautiously, thinking about the day before when she met him with Sebastian.

"The one that houses your prince, you mean." Feynriel asked, giving her a sly smile.

Dara gave him a look. "He's too nosy already. Walked in when the first time I tried to talk with Sebastian Vael. I want to know what kind of trouble he's going to be." She answered.

Feynriel sat back and thought, scratching absently at his whiskerless chin as he did. "He's not very powerful himself, but he knows all the right people. I think he houses Prince Sebastian for whatever ties, even weak, it would give him to Starkhaven. They are still the mightiest of city-states in the Free Marches. He also dabbles in Orlesian politics, but I don't know much about that."

Hawke groaned. Of course Lavinius was going to be a self-centered little wild card in her already complicated game. She hoped that she wasn't forced to slay him. Killing one magister was probably trouble enough in the Imperium, even if she had done it in a run down tavern in Kirkwall. The ghost of Danarius seemed stronger in Minrathous, but that was no doubt because she was expecting him to thwart her even from the grave. Still, she was here and though she had to protect Sebastian, she also had to help Fenris. Dara covered her face with her hands.

Feynriel didn't linger long after, making his goodbyes after tossing out most of the invitations that had come for her. The people that sent them were too low ranking to get her favor individually he said. She thanked him and let him go, turning back to the library after seeing him to the door.

Fenris was waiting for her when she ventured back. "The mage has gone?" He asked.

"Yes. He's been helpful thus far and he's much more in control than he was in Kirkwall."

His mouth quirked into a wry grin. "That is of little comfort, Hawke. But I didn't come to talk about the enamored boy."

Hawke sputtered at that description. "He's just being nice because I saved his life, Fenris. He's not...he doesn't have a crush on me."

"Believe me Hawke, he does. It is of little import right now. Have you seen Anders?" He asked.

"Not today. Is there something wrong?" Dara was already alarmed. Usually Fenris and Anders tried to pretend the other wasn't in the house.

"I don't think so, not yet." Fenris said. "But you should check in with him. This place is full of what Anders thinks he wants for all mages, but he does not understand it." He paused and then went on, "I worried over whether to let you come here."

"Did you?"

"Yes. Though I have known you for many years and never seen you give in, this place has a depravity of its own unique making. I would not have faulted you for not wanting to come."

"But I'm here with you." Hawke said, smiling at Fenris.

"Yes, you are. But Merrill is already a blood mage and Anders spends his time either pouring over old texts or meeting with other mages. I wonder how long they will last here."

"Merrill paid a price for her blood magic." She reminded him gently.

"I know, and I see her contrition. I do not think she fully understands it herself, but it is something that she hasn't tried it again. Anders however, perhaps I am wrong about him as well and he will see that this isn't like his dream of freedom. Either that or he will fall prey to it."

"I will speak with him, I promise." Hawke said, wondering how in the world she was going to approach this. Fenris was mollified by her promise and went on to speak of lighter things.

"Prince Sebastian seems well suited to you." He said, and Dara threw up her hands in exasperation.

"Not you too! We just met and each time he's been doused in wine. I don't think he likes me so much as he likes women."

"You think too little of yourself, Hawke. You are a beautiful, powerful woman. Many would be willing if you cared to invite them."

She shook her head. "Let's not talk of this, of all subjects. Let's figure out a way to protect Sebastian from the inevitable shit show that's coming, or find out where Danarius's effects have gone since he and Hadriana are both dead. Anything but this." She said and he laughed his dry chuckle at her discomfort.

" _The inevitable shit show._ Ah, now you've made me miss Varric." He said, still laughing. But he took her hint and said nothing more about it that day.


	6. The Gamble

The moon was hanging bright overhead as Anders crept from the manse, though he had no idea why he was sneaking. Hawke had never forbade him to leave, and hadn't mentioned his presence to her princeling, at his request. No one knew he was there outside of his companions and the servants, but yet he erred on the side of caution. He was too much of a Circle mage not to go with care and caution when he did clandestine things.

Outside, he smiled as his feet hit cobblestone and carried him forward. Minrathous was best during the night in his opinion, the fall of shadows on the old buildings lending charm . There wasn't a lack of activity outside, but there was little sound. It was as if everyone was determined not to dispel the hush that blanketed the city that night. Although the occasional noises still wound their way to his ears, they were few. Taverns and bawdy houses didn't lack custom and the docks had their nightly shipments, but the sounds became blurred background. They were so far away from the private estates of esteemed magisters and their grasping apprentices, Anders could almost ignore them.

He hated to admit it, but he could see why Fenris hated the Imperium so vehemently. For any non-mage, and specifically for slaves, life had to be beyond horrible. The mistreatment was always hidden, but he could see the signs of it poking out from under the veneer of respectability. A souvenir of life in the Circle and as a healer - he could spot hidden abuses. It made Justice seethe within him - this was no righteous haven for mages, but just another place where the strong combined their might against the weak. This time the coin was reversed from how it was in the rest of Thedas. The strong were the magisters; people with more in common with him than he'd like to admit.

That thought made him huff out a perturbed grunt as he walked on, stopping in shadows to check his whereabouts. Inside of him, Justice rankled but he didn't want to argue with his partner about it, and instead reminded himself to stay on task. The air outside was pleasant, cool and though not devoid of humidity. It carried the scent of the incense that burned everywhere outdoors - in little pots on doorsteps, and hanging from lampposts. It burned just for the express purpose of masking the smells of the city sewers.

When he reached his destination, it was a nondescript looking backdoor to a small home. A small pair of eyes looked through a crack at his knock, and then beckoned him in. Anders drew in a breath and let it out slowly through his nose as he looked around. No templars. Even here, he was afraid they were dogging his steps. Instead of Meredith's lackeys, they would be Orlesian and full of righteous fury about Kirkwall. But there was none here, just the small elven man that let him in and was now showing him to another room.

When he got there, Anders had to smile.

#####

Dara and Merrill were sitting together, going through some of the old tomes Feynriel brought for her. Anders was out - though he hasn't refused to help Fenris, but he never offered to help reaseach unless he had no other plans. Since coming to Tevinter, Anders almost always has other plans. He'd been out and about almost every day, but not mixing with the aristocracy, but just being free. His face blended into the crowds, in with the other immigrants from the Anderfells walking the streets. Hawke doesn't fault him for being enthralled with it all, it's quite the novelty for her too. There's a certain happiness that fills her knowing that no templars are watching her. There's no one who needs to be appeased and no palms need greasing for her to freely do her business. But she's the one that Fenris comes to when he is in pain, the first person saw his marking flash pearly grey instead of their customary blue. It was she that heard his confession of fear when they noticed the changes.

So while she didn't have the heart to make Anders stay in and hide, she wasn't as free with her own comings and goings. Besides, she was hoping that Anders would learn something medical that might have to do with lyrium and help them in the long run. It would matter little if he stayed in or out of the house after their meeting that afternoon. She was making her long-delayed informal visit to the Archon and several senators and Anders was to accompany her. Fenris and Merrill both refused her offer to come along, for their own reasons. She suspected Merrill was starting to find the magisters more distasteful than the people of Kirkwall, whom she was fascinated by when she first lived among them. Anders, with his knowledge of Circle politics and deep academic knowledge was a good fit for this meeting. Besides, finding a safe haven for Anders would be a reasonable excuse for her relocation to Tevinter.

On a sultry, humid morning that made the whole day seem like it was moving slow, it was just her and Merrill in the study. Fenris was tending to other matters. She knew that he hadn't left the house, but a messenger had dropped off scrolls for him. When she asked, he said that they concerned Danarius and that she needn't trouble herself, but didn't go into detail on what he'd received. He and his giant sword often ran their own errands here, and she didn't belittle him by reminding him to stay out of trouble. The Imperium was more his place than hers, and he knew it far better than she was ever likely to, and had contacts that she couldn't fathom, even after so many years away.

She flexed her neck from side to side in an attempt to soothe the aching muscles from reading. A break was being considered when Sebastian was announced by one of the sundry servants around the place. Dara didn't know their names, didn't know them at all. It made her miss Bodahn and Sandal whenever she thought on it. Sebastian swaggered into the room, filling it with his insouciant presence before he'd even opened his mouth. He was already smirking, temping lips twisted into a half-grin. She hadn't been expecting him to call on her that day, but she knew they would have to see each other again soon. He'd left her feeling they'd parted in the middle of something, and she wasn't sure which way it would go yet. He greeted both her and Merrill, but when Merrill made to leave, he insisted it wasn't necessary.

"If you're to help Lady Hawke in her endeavors here in the Imperium, it's easier if you stay, Merrill." He said, and Dara nodded. Merrill carefully marked her place and closed the book, the pages sighing as she did. The books they had today were old, likely stolen from dwarves and all about the properties of lyrium. Not the best reference, but a place to start.

"What brings you here?" Dara said, stretching out her legs. Part of the reason she was stuck in with books was to avoid Sebastian, yet here he was looking at her as if she were dinner and desert.

"I've an invitation to one of the best parties of the year." Sebastian said, turning his gaze back to Dara. "Before you say no, consider how it would be to pass up a prime society party in Kirkwall. Then multiply it. Magisters take their socialization very seriously." He said, responding to her skeptical look. "We will definitely attend together, but I think you and I should set some rules before we do."

She did have to concede that even she attended some parties in Kirkwall, just because to do otherwise would cause her to lose status and power in the nobility. It was always a dangerous game, and she often missed the simplicity of life in Lowtown once the invitations started to pile up on her desk. Her mother had always been up to it, reveling in the restoration of that part of her life. Dara hadn't taken to it, but didn't mind the dresses. She hadn't been expecting Tevinter society to be any different, just hoping she'd be excluded from it. It appeared that wasn't to be the case. Dara raised an eyebrow at him, unsure she liked the direction where he was going as she answered. "Go on."

"I don't want to offend you inadvertently, or alert any party goers that we aren't as close as we seem. We need to set limits on our deception, it seems." Sebastian explained. "I don't even know if I'm allowed to hold your hand or lean in for a kiss." He added. "But we do have to be a couple, to avoid suspicion, since we are bound to help each other. Otherwise it will be far more difficult for you to gain entry to society, if that is what you still intend to do. I assumed so, since your lyrium painted friend would need the kind of knowledge only a few magisters would have."

She managed to keep the unexpected surprise off her face, but it took some effort. "You've figured me out." She said, and Sebastian chuckled at her.

"Not quite, but after our dinner, I had some time to think. It was hard to come up with another reason you'd be here. Unless you just wanted power, and you don't need me for that." He answered. "But that still doesn't address the question of how elaborate our ruse should be." He reminded her, rolling the 'r' on the word ruse.

She turned her back on him, meandering over to the opposite wall and then leaning against the bookcase. He had a point, though she hadn't given the specifics of their charade much thought. Kisses and appearances were going to be a large part of keeping their truth hidden. The biggest distraction she could cause with Sebastian, the less people might look into her. The other side was also true, the more she was seen, the more people would call on her and want to find her secrets. Unfortunately, Hawke knew from Kirkwall that wanting to live a quiet life didn't mean that others would let it be so. Her notoriety meant that even if she kept her head down in Tevinter, people were likely to come nosing around. Better to give them something to see instead of letting them sneak up on her and find out more than she wanted.

"We can be as open as you like. You're the one that knows what would be convincing around here and who needs the performance. I'll defer to your expertise." She said in a prim tone, turning back to face him. While she'd been lost in thought, he had been watching her with a practiced look of indifference. If anything that look made her like him a little more, because he wasn't trying to influence her decision in any way. She knew that part of him was hoping for kisses after the last time they'd seen each other. There was no denying part of her wanted that as well.

She walked over to him, sliding an arm up his shoulder and around his neck. She surprised Sebastian her touch, blue eyes widening a smidgen as she looped her arms around him. He never stiffened, instead leaning in and putting an arm around her waist. He took cues well - that was a good quality to have when practicing deception. "Shall we practice?" She asked, ignoring the little squeal that came from Merrill.

Sebastian was a solid wall of muscle against her body, though she wasn't sure why the observation felt new to her. Their embrace the other night had brought much of him into contact with her, and she'd felt the hard planes of muscle under the fabric. But she hadn't been trying to feel him, her body flush against his. That made all the difference, it seemed. Her heart raced, beating like a caged animal in her chest, and she hoped he couldn't feel it. 

There was no denying her attraction to him now, not that she'd tried to before. It had been an inconvenience before, but now it was unavoidable. Their dinner had forced her to acknowledge her lusty response to him, but she thought to control it through distance. It was nothing to admire him like a painting. Or think of him at night, when he was far from her own bed. Thoughts of Sebastian had made her restless nights pass faster, given her mind something to fixate on when there was nothing but darkness and empty space in her bed.

But now he was kissing her, and there was no light introduction to his mouth. She pressed against lips that were adamant about kissing her. When Sebastian opened his mouth a sliver, Dara seized on the chance, teasing his tongue with her own and biting at his lower lip before he could answer in kind. His grip tightened around her waist in response, and she wound a hand into his hair, mussing the back of his head in time to her devouring kiss. 

They were fighting, silent and sensuous, trying to best each other without words. She felt his hand slide up her spine as he pulled back from her, taking a breath. It wasn't over, not quite, because he came back and tilted her head back slightly as he renewed the kiss, making Dara moan into his mouth. The break had allowed Sebastian to regain his footing, and he no longer tried to dominate. Instead he showed off his prowess, all gentle hands and caressing tongue. She felt like time had stopped their in his arms. There should have been nothing but their kiss, until it swallowed her whole. She would have been glad for it to take her under, her willing sacrifice to his riptide. But a tiny part of her brain was still aware of Merrill, that this wasn't a kiss between lovers but a stage show, and brought her back to reality. She broke away and when Sebastian realized she meant to stop kissing him, he opened his eyes and cupped her face with one large hand. She couldn't help but smile at him.

Somewhere behind her Merrill applauded gaily, as if she hadn't noticed that Dara had been devastated by a kiss. "You're very convincing. It seemed so real! You've convinced me." Merrill said. "You're so gorgeous, and he's a good kisser, isn't he Hawke? He looks like he would be, with that soft mouth and those hands. Hands are important to a kiss, but you never think about it until you're kissing someone, and he's got strong hands. Oh, I think I'll be quiet now." Merrill said, lowering her flushed face as both Dara and Sebastian stared at her. Sebastian had an eyebrow raised almost to his hairline, and Dara was smothering her laughter. She was grateful that breaking the silence hadn't fallen to her.

"No, it's okay, Merrill." Hawke said, once she disentangled herself completely from Sebastian. "He is a wonderful kisser."

Sebastian was still looking amused, his eyes darting between her and Merrill as she retook her seat at the table. "You are...quite adept at it yourself, but I'm glad to have your approval, Champion. And yours, Merrill."

Dara wanted him to kiss her again, until she couldn't feel her toes and was breathless and aching as he laid her against the sheets. She wanted to take him by the hand and lead him to her bedroom now, so they could wear each other out properly. It had been ages since she'd been with someone like that, especially someone that didn't charge coin for the service. Dara sighed. There was no time today, even as much as would have liked to cancel her meeting with the Archon. Instead she could spend her time in the much worthier pursuit of tracing the outline of Sebastian's body with her tongue. Now fully ignited, her lust knew no bounds, and her body thrummed with impotent desire. If only she could put the Archon off, but Dara knew she it would be folly.

"Tomorrow we'll meet in the market, and I'll take you around to the shops." He suggested, breaking into her thoughts.

"Why?"

"It's good to be seen out together, before we make an official debut. Think of it as a courting gesture." Sebastian said.

"And that's important here?"

"It will lend credence to our story. It will make me seem besotted with the Champion of Kirkwall, though it won't dispel all suspicion. Just another thread in the fabric, if you will."

"The fabric being deception." Dara said, smiling at him.

"Exactly." Sebastian returned her grin with one of his own. "I'll meet you in the market tomorrow morning, Lady Hawke. I can see myself out. Until then." He said, exiting the room after a small nod to Merrill.

Once he was gone, Dara had to excuse herself as well. Merrill could continue reading the books on lyrium without her. If she were going to see the Archon, she needed to get ready and an icy cold bath was on the top of her list.

#####

It was after luncheon when she and Anders wrapped themselves in finery and headed out by carriage. As they made their way through Minrathous, Dara took in the scenery. It was busy, even in the sweltering late afternoon heat. The noise of people filled the streets, sounds of them working and living, conversing and shouting. Every building they passed was in varied state of dignified decay, warm sandy colored stone cracked and covered in ivy. It struck Dara that Minrathous looked like a corrupted Val Royeaux. Replace the Andrastian Chantry images with statues the Old Gods and left to molder into ruin and the two cities would be similar.

Horned dragon statues with clipped wings stood guard over the building where they were deposited. Anders offered Hawke his arm before the started up the staircase. Shoots of vegetation sprung through the cracks in the stairs, hastening their inevitable decay. She suspected that magic held the buildings together more than mortar these days. 

"I've been meaning to check in with you." Hawke murmured as she and Anders ascended the steps.

"Now?" He asked, irritation evident in his voice.

"I haven't seen you." She replied simply.

"Everything is...alright enough." Anders answered softly, but didn't elaborate. She didn't press him.

"Tell me if you need anything." She said and Anders nodded, but didn't look over at her again. They were almost at the door. 

Her words were dangerous after Kirkwall, but she wanted Anders to know she still supported him. The gulf between them had widened because they hadn't truly spoken about it, but Dara found she couldn't. Kirkwall was still too close to her to talk about. They had other things, like helping Fenris and navigating Tevinter to fill their conversation. For now, at least, that was how it was between them.

This building was the home of the magocracy, the senate and all the might in Tevinter. It looked imposing, even as they stood on the threshold of it. Imagine, all the power through history that had come through the place. Had these same halls played host to Archon Hessarian? Dara gave a visible tremble as she thought on it, and Anders squeezed her arm. 

When they were inside the large double doors, there was bustle all around them. A page took their names and led her and Anders up through a maze corridors to a small waiting room. It was comfortable, sumptuous and filled with objects to be admired rather than used. A Blade of Mercy hung on the wall about their chairs. They stayed in there for a quarter of an hour, just the two of them, waiting. Dara supposed it was some kind of intimidation tactic, but she wasn't sure why they were doing it to her. She was an outsider, there was nothing to gain by impressing her, at least not from her perspective. Perhaps she would ask Sebastian about it. He was still an outsider, but his longer acquaintance and objectivity might glean her a different view of herself. 

Her thoughts wandered to Sebastian, as they so often did these days. Without thought, she brushed a hand over her lips, as if trying to recapture the feeling of their kiss. Why had she kissed him? Practice wasn't required, even if she'd claimed it was. Mayhap she was just getting worse at controlling her own desires after so many years. Her trips to the Blooming Rose for her own pleasure had been infrequent, despite Isabela's urging. She hadn't wanted sex without meaning at the time, but Dara was considering it with Sebastian. Her hesitation that first night was borne of her old distaste for casual liaisons, not any real aversion to him. He wouldn't love her, and that was fine with her. There was safety in the fact that he wasn't a stranger, but not a friend. Since they were pretending to date, there was no reason not to go as far as she wanted.

The door opened, pulling her from her own thoughts. Framed within it stood a man with dark wavy hair that fell to his broad shoulders and a over-trimmed beard. He wore head to toe black robes, unrelieved by color or adornment other than the heavy gold pendant hanging from his neck. He looked impressive in a sinister way.

"Champion!" The man said, extending his arms towards Hawke. "I am Marcus Septimus. It is a great pleasure to meet you at last." 

She took his outstretched hand and he brought her hand to his lips, kissing the knuckles before dropping it. "It is a great pleasure to meet you. This is my companion, Anders." Hawke said, and Anders nodded stiffly at his introduction.

"An honor, an honor." Septimus said, returning the nod. "When I realized the Archon was running late, I volunteered to come down and get you. It won't do to have a guest of your stature sitting alone." He said, smiling at her. "Come, come. Our audience should start soon." He pronounced and ushered them from the room.

The Archon was much less flamboyant than Septimus, but just as excessive with his professed adoration of her. The Archon himself had a head of salt and pepper close cropped hair and a lined face. He was much smaller in stature than Septimus, but radiated power with every inch of him. Two other senators, names already forgotten, sat in the room with them. They spoke little through the whole interview, but eyed her like birds of prey. They'd made polite talk for a few minutes, but then the Archon got to work.

"You know, we could always use another member in the magisterial senate." He said, smiling at Hawke as if the suggestion had come out of nowhere.

"I am sure such an honor wouldn't be bestowed upon just anyone one, mage or no." Dara replied, earning a chuckle from both Septimus and the Archon.

"Of course not, but do not worry upon such details. Someone like yourself, a renowned slayer of Qunari could find many ways to earn such honor."

"Your continuing war could use more support?" She asked.

"Another general is always useful when conducting war against our enemies." He replied. "But the battlefield might be a waste of your charms and intellect. Our Chantry is also in need of new dedicates. Gaining the ear of a grand cleric could go far, if you intend to stay in the Imperium."

Hawke didn't address the last part of the question, but pretended to muse on it. "I see there are several paths towards such a goal, if one can prove worthy of it. It would require careful consideration, to be sure." She said, and Anders gave a quick approving nod at her answer. No need to commit to anything yet.

"Great power and prestige comes from the responsibility, but also great wealth. There would be no need to dwell in the house of a lesser mage, no need to hide." He said, looking over at Anders. "We would take care of our own."

Oh, if only Fenris could hear the sweet deception the Archon was laying on her. She wouldn't be able to stop the rending of his heart from his chest, the movement would be so quick. But Hawke instead smiled and Anders spoke in her stead.

"We apologize if our presence here has caused any problems." He said and the Archon waved a hand at him.

"Not at all. It is always amusing to turn Orlesians away when they think they are being subtle. The little game they play is nothing compared to what we here in the Imperium have done daily for centuries. They are free to seek and find far away from our borders. You are welcome here" The Archon declared. 

A bell tinkled and Septimus stood. Taking her cue from him, Hawke did as well, then bent to kiss the ring on the outstretched hand of the Archon. "Thank you for your audience today. It was most illuminating, Your Grace." 

With an airy goodbye and request that she think on his words, Septimus led them out. Dara felt his hand graze across her backside as he brushed past her, the tiny action cementing her complete dislike of him. Her schooled features showed no sign that she'd noticed, and they walked on and out of the building. Leaving behind Septimus with a short goodbye as they got back into the waiting carriage.

Anders waited until they were pulling away into the traffic to explode. "Fight more bloody qunari for a seat on their senate!" He snarled, unable to keep his anger in. Dara let him go, raging against the blatant way the Archon wanted to use her. She felt the same rage, but held it in, thinking more on what she hadn't heard than what she had. Anger would cloud her recollection of the details, and she needed to remember all of their meeting. She had a feeling this offer was more important than it seemed.


End file.
